Hero
by Eraleigh Aminah
Summary: AU Movie-verse. "He was supposed to sacrifice everything and anything. He was supposed to be the hero." When Peter Pevensie saves the day once again, it's up to Edmund to save him. Because that's how it always works. Brother-fic. No incest.
1. Prologue: Peter, High King and Hero

**Hero**

**by Eraleigh Aminah**

**Disclaimer: All rights reserved to C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, Walt Disney, and 20th Century Fox.  
**

_Author's Note: Alright, so I don't know if this has been done before. If it has, hopefully it hasn't happened in the same way. For clarification, this is a brother-fic, and not an incestuous one. It takes place in the Night Raid on Miraz's Castle, so yes, it is Movie-verse. This chapter is a little short, but it is only the prologue. I'll try to update as often as possible, and let's pray that my updates are good. Alright, enjoy!_

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**Prologue: Peter, High King and Hero**

Edmund Pevensie, King of Narnia, furiously struggled with the Telmarine soldier that had him pinned against the stone ledge, which was the only thing keeping him from falling into the courtyard. Edmund could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but it was difficult to gain the upper hand—far too difficult. His sword was locked with the soldier's, his other hand caught. He was just about to _push_, when his focus was thrown by the voice of his brother, High King Peter, reaching his sensitive ears.

"Now, Ed, _now_! Signal the troops!"

"I'm a bit busy, Pete!" Edmund managed to snap before he pushed the soldier's sword to the side and angrily butted the man's head. Now that he finally had room, he swung his sword ferociously, hitting the steel of the Telmarine's blade fiercely. Edmund whipped his sword around widely, an his opponent managed to block his hit once more. That only served to make him more frustrated. There was a time when striking down the Telmarine wouldn't have taken more than a couple seconds. During the Golden Age, there hadn't been anyone but Peter that could best him in swordplay. The fact that he was wasting his time with this untalented guard seemed ludicrous.

Due to his distracted state, the man was able to send Edmund's blade flying from his hand. Edmund ducked as the Telmarine's own sword swung above his head, noticing as he did so that his new torch was within reach. He snatched it up, whacking the man with it twice before he fell. He breathed heavily for a moment, then formed an expression of extreme disbelief as he realized it wouldn't turn on.

"_Ugh__..._" he breathed, hitting it against his palm and swearing when nothing happened. He continued to bang it against his hand, trying to get a response. "Come _on_." He slapped the lens and was shocked but relieved when it came on. He immediately pointed it outward, signaling for the troops to come.

He saw Peter, Susan, and Caspian opening the gate before he turned and ran across the length of the tower. He placed one hand on the ledge as jumped over, landing on a balcony on the other side of the castle. He glanced around for possible ways back to the courtyard before his eyes landed upon the roof. He pulled himself up with a little difficulty, kicking his legs to try to gain some momentum. He grabbed onto the tiles, pulling himself up further and looking down at the battle that was unfolding beneath him. Archers began to line the balcony, and Edmund followed the gaze of the one to see the soldier was directing his crossbow at none other than his brother.

Narnia's youngest king set his jaw angrily, kicked his feet in front of him as he slid down the roofing and rammed into the archer, causing him to fall over the balcony ledge and slam into the courtyard below. Edmund smirked victoriously. _Not while I'm still breathing_, he thought fiercely, looking at his brother.

Peter reciprocated Edmund's action as if he sensed his life being saved (which he probably did). His eyes went wide, and he shouted, "ED!"

Unfortunately, Edmund had earned some unwanted attention. The other archers on the terrace turned their attention to him and took aim with their crossbows. Edmund barely managed to fly through the door without getting shot by a bolt. He breathed a short sigh of relief as he swung entrance shut with his foot and the rest of the arrows embedded themselves in the door.

He didn't have any time to waste, though. Edmund scrambled to his feet and ran up the closest staircase. He stopped hearing the battle raging furiously below, only aware the thumping of his own heart as he ran for his life. He could hear a couple of the soldiers following him, and he pushed himself faster, thinking of his brother and sisters and Aslan. He drew his strength from them and reached the top of the large tower in record time. He pushed the door open and closed it just as quickly, locking it with his new torch.

He turned around, only to find that he was on a small balcony, overlooking a drop onto rocks that seemed to be over five hundred feet. He looked around in distress, seeing no way out. His pursuers rattled at the door before finally kicking it down. Edmund was actively thinking up a way to convince the soldiers not to kill him or take him prisoner as the approached him with their swords drawn out. He slowly backed up to an opening in the wall of stone surrounded the balcony, a look of sheer terror and surprise on his face, before his eyes caught sight of a Gryphon approaching to catch him.

Edmund's arms were clutching at the railing, his heels at the edge. He slowly looked up at the soldiers, and, purely for dramatic effect, slowly let go and fell backward, dropping almost twenty feet before the Gryphon swept him up and shocked the Telmarines with a warlike screech.

The last thing Edmund heard as they flew away over turrets and from the battle was the sound of his brother's voice, all but lost in the fury below.

"MIRAZ!"

**-EP-PP-**

Peter Pevensie sprinted at full speed across the Telmarine courtyard, determined to win the battle and save the day. That was what he did, after all. It was his job, his duty, his _oath _to _Aslan_. He was supposed to sacrifice everything and anything, put away his own desires, and step up to the demanding task of loving his country with everything he had. Aslan had made him the High King, and he would protect Narnia at the cost of his life, defend it with every fiber of his being, be its savior. He was supposed to be the hero.

"Now, Ed, _now_! Signal the troops!" he yelled up to his brother who was struggling with a guard. Peter withdrew Rhindon from its sheath as two more guards approached him. He met blades with the two soldiers, spinning and slashing, his sword meeting the metal of theirs before he struck them down and continued on his way, hardly hearing his brother at all as he pumped his legs furiously.  
He reached the gates and began turning the wheel, straining his muscles to do so. Peter felt rather than saw Susan and Caspian approaching him from behind, and he wanted to yell at them to just help him already because everything was not going as planned and it was all Caspian's fault, but he just set his jaw and _pushed_.

"Peter! It's too late. We have to pull it off while we can," Susan insisted.

"NO! I can still do this!" The two just stood there, most likely looking at the Telmarines as they rushed out into the courtyard. "_Help_ me!" he cried, frustrated.

Susan and Caspian joined him and Peter saw his sister roll her eyes angrily. There was no doubt in his mind that she was absolutely fuming, but he couldn't let that bother him. He had a mission: to free the Narnians. The only way to do that was to take control of the castle. He _had_ to do this.

"Exactly _who_ are you doing this for?" Susan demanded bitterly as they continued opening the gate. Peter just looked at her, indignant and livid. Who did she think he was doing this for? Wasn't the answer obvious? Was it not absolutely crystal clear that he was trying to save his country? Wasn't it obvious he was doing this for Narnia?

The Telmarines began to flood the courtyard, and Peter was finally able to force the gate open with Susan and Caspian. As the Narnians raced through the gate, Peter turned and unsheathed Rhindon, raising it up in a fearsome pose. "FOR NARNIA!" he screamed as he charged, hoping Susan understood his answer to her question.

He rushed forward into the fray, immediately engaging in battle. He threw a soldiers spear to the side and cut off his head, repeating the action with the next Telmarine. His blood was pumping wildly through his veins, and Peter could feel his battle instincts kicking in. The familiar motions naturally came back to him, and he was relieved to let them take over as he tried to figure out how to kill Miraz.

Peter was battling a particularly skilled opponent by a well, and had just managed to cut him down when he heard a scream of sheer terror as a man fell after flipping over a railing. He whipped around to see archers lining the balcony, with all eyes staring in astonishment as the one soldier dropped into the courtyard. But Peter didn't care about that. What he cared about was the fact that he brother was standing right next to them within easy shooting distance.

"ED!" he shouted, his eyes wide as he looked at his brother. Edmund managed to take in the situation and within a second, he was running out the door. Unfortunately, Peter didn't have any more time to worry about his brother. Another Telmarine flew at him with his sword shining and Peter barely was able to get Rhindon up in time. He slashed at the other man and managed to hit a major artery in the upper arm before he felt as if something was about to go extremely wrong.

Peter wasn't one to go against his instincts, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the balcony of Miraz's room, where the devil himself was standing and watching the battle with an almost exasperated expression on his face. Peter bared his teeth, omitting a violet "UGH!" as he glanced around before running toward the stairs. He had to get to Miraz.  
Peter raced up a short flight of stairs near the entrance door, seeing a Centaur and Faun fall almost simultaneously as he did so. Actually, there seemed to be more Telmarines than Narnians in the courtyard. Far more. They looked nearly overwhelmed.

He tried to ignore that. As High King, Peter had faced impossible odds before. He had hardly even been a teenager when he led the battle against the White Witch and saved Narnia. This wasn't any different. He could save Narnia again. Everything would be set right, if only he could _kill Miraz_.

Peter forced his way up a narrow flight of stairs. Upon reaching the landing he swung Rhindon at a Telmarine before pushing the soldier into a support. The man proceeding to fall, and Peter turned to continue forcing his way up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Satyr (Tirius?) make an insane leap and catch hold of the railing of Miraz's balcony. General Glozelle and his soldiers came rushing out, crossbows poised, but they didn't shoot.

Miraz slowly approached the Satyr and Peter watched as he did so. The usurper's upper lip curled, and, with a mighty shove, the Satyr fell.

Peter followed the Narnian's plunge to the ground with his eyes, suddenly not feeling as if anything else mattered. The Satyr collided with the roof and shingles came flying down with him as he hit the stone once more before impacting the ground. Peter's eyes moved to take in what else was happening in the battle. Narnians were falling left and right, killed by the swelling number of Telmarine soldiers. And they weren't done arriving. Within ten minutes even the best of his warriors would be dead. They would all be dead, and it would be _his_ fault. He had to do something!  
He hit an approaching soldier with the pommel of his blade as he tried to think something—_anything—_up. Then it hit him. _The only way to save the Narnians would be to sacrifice himself. That's what Aslan had told him to do._

"MIRAZ!" he shouted, turning to lock eyes Caspian's uncle and bringing Rhindon up in front of himself in defense. The man in question narrowed his eyes dangerously as he saw who was addressing him in the midst of the battle. He obviously recognized Peter from earlier when they had barged into his bedchamber and attempted to murder him.

"Yes, _High King_?" he asked imperiously, clearly mocking Peter. Peter ignored it; he couldn't care about that now.

"Let my troops go," Peter said as calmly as he could once he had the man's attention.

Miraz looked honestly confused and maybe a little disbelieving. "Just how stupid do you think I am? Why would I do that when I could end this all now? When I could _kill you_?"

"You didn't let me finish," Peter said. "Let my troops go, and you can take me as prisoner." Miraz's eyes widened ever so slightly in comprehension, but he still scowled.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why, when you know there is absolutely _no hope_ for them? They will all die eventually. You could get away and maybe, possibly, _live_. Why? Why sacrifice yourself for nothing?"

"Because," Peter answered, "that's what Aslan told me to do."

Miraz growled furiously. "I could kill you now."

"You could," Peter agreed. "But then my troops would retreat, and you wouldn't be able to use me as ransom or whatever other ideas have been running through your mind." Miraz sneered at his logical explanation, appearing more than a little disturbed that Peter had, no doubt, accurately predicted his thoughts. Peter knew men like Miraz. They were cunning, selfish, and self-serving. And they couldn't help but take advantage something that seemed too good to be true.

Miraz leaned forward over his balcony, his dark eyes smoldering. Peter stared just as intently back. "Do you accept?" the High King insisted.

There was a brief moment when Peter thought that maybe he was wrong about Miraz, and the man would refuse. He needn't have worried. Miraz's lips curled into a small, sinister smile. "I accept."

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_Author's Note: I hope that the action and fighting sequences didn't suck. I know Peter's conversation with Miraz was somewhat awkward, but I couldn't find any way to make it less so. Hey, I'm here to learn. Plus, that was something that needed to happen. I don't think there will be any part of this fic quite like that again, so we're lucky there. _

_ Please, review. I love to hear anything you might have to say, even if it is "good", "bad", "continue", or "sucks". Well, actually, in the case of the latter I might be slightly upset, but that's alright. Criticism is loved,_

_ One more thing: I'm looking for a Beta reader. I don't want someone who will just edit typos or replace too many repeated words. I want someone who will actually give me advice and help me develop my story. If you're interested, or know a Beta reader who would be good at that, please PM me. Thank you!_


	2. Chapter 1: Exit Wounds

**Hero**

**by Eraleigh Aminah**

**Disclaimer: All rights reserved to C.S. Lewis, Walden Media, Walt Disney, and 20th Century Fox. And, in this chapter's case, The Script.  
**

_Author's Note: Sorry this took so long! It took me a little while to write it, and then I had to worry about getting it edited, and I wasn't quite sure about the second half (well, it's more like a third). Tell me what you think. Yes, that was me encouraging you to review. I really appreciate the reviews for the last chapter, which were very nice and helpful. I'm also really grateful for those of you that favorited or alerted this story. I can't thank you guys enough. This chapter has a theme song: "Exit Wounds" by The Script. Listen to it. They're a lovely band. Please note that it's not exactly the meaning of the chapter or like a songfic or anything, I just felt that the opening verse was very appropriate. Anyways, you're probably getting bored, so I'll stop now, and let you enjoy the chapter!  


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_

_My hands are cold, _  
_ My body's numb, _  
_ I'm still in shock what have you done?_  
_ My head is pounding, _  
_ My visions blurred, _  
_ Your mouth is moving I don't hear a word._

"Exit Wounds" - The Script

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**Chapter 1: Exit Wounds  
**

"What happened?" Edmund demanded as he jumped off the Gryphon he had been riding before they both landed. "Why did everyone leave?"

The Gryphon, named Blyr, had touched ground right alongside Susan, who was walking with a stony expression next to Caspian. Edmund had absolutely _known _something was wrong as they had flown above the troops—he could _feel_ how _wrong _everything was—but Blyr had insisted on continuing their flight until they found a safer place to touch down where his wings wouldn't be in danger of a too-tight space.

Susan just set her jaw angrily. Edmund was familiar with the expression. Although Susan had been dubbed 'the Gentle', there were times when her temper flared. Those times were rare and few between, though. Edmund thought that she had gotten her title somewhat from resisting her fiery tendencies and reacting in a more pragmatic and loving way.

Edmund wondered what could have set her off so badly. He hadn't seen her so upset in at least two years (counting Narnia, of course).

His sister's only reply was, "Why don't you ask Caspian what happened?" Edmund's eyes widened at Susan's livid tone, and even more so when he saw Caspian just hang his head in shame. What was wrong? What had happened?

...Where was Peter?

"Where's Peter?" he asked. "Come on, Su, tell me. Why isn't he here? ...Did he go ahead? Did he go ahead to bring someone back to Lucy to be healed?"

Susan stopped turned her eyes to him. They were full of rage and barely-concealed desperation; they stopped him in his tracks. "...Susan?" he asked again, his voice cracking slightly. This wasn't going to be something he wanted to hear. Was Peter injured? Had he been hurt? Oh Aslan—where was he? Was he on a stretcher somewhere, clinging on for dear life?

"He's been taken captive by Miraz."

It all made sense in that moment. In that crushing, heart-wrenching moment when Edmund felt like his throat had closed up and he would collapse from agony. Peter had sacrificed himself. He had sacrificed himself, and was probably at peace with having done so. He probably enjoyed the fact that by giving himself up, he was able to get most of his troops out of that courtyard alive. He probably thought he was the hero again.

Edmund wanted to protest. He wanted to deny Susan's words, to tell her she was wrong. But he couldn't. It made so much sense. It was something Peter would have done in a heartbeat. He would have done it to save his country. And Edmund hadn't forgotten that confident yet pleading cry he had heard, so obviously from his brother's mouth.

He couldn't speak for a few moments, and was hardly aware when he began to move forward again. The first words he spoke were bitterly directed to Caspian.

"What happened?" he demanded, then winced. He didn't want to accuse Caspian because he really didn't know if Caspian was at fault. But Susan had been so convinced, and his brother had been taken _captive_, and was going to be put through Aslan-knows-what. Edmund didn't want to think about it. But his overactive mind was already thinking up the horrifying possibilities, and none of them were helping Caspian's case.

Caspian didn't look at Edmund, just up at the sky in a pained manner. "It was my fault—"

"Yes, it was," Susan interjected. Caspian closed his eyes, ashamed. Edmund bit his lip.

"When we arrived, we found that my professor had been taken to the dungeons. I insisted on getting him out; your brother protested. He said that I was supposed to get the gate open, but I said I could still make it. Your sister and brother searched for Miraz's room while I found my professor, and he said—he said that...Miraz killed my father. I was so _angry_, and I just…went to Miraz's room and held my sword to his throat. I almost killed him, but...I couldn't. And when your sister and brother came, he got away and signaled the troops. Peter still wanted to pull it off. He got to the gate and opened it. The Narnian troops came, but the Telmarine soldiers were already ready. There were too many, so Peter...your brother sacrificed himself so the troops could go free. It's entirely my fault."

Edmund felt a chill go down his spine. It was so classically _Peter_. He should have expected it, going into this raid. It had seemed like a good plan, but Edmund should have known that no truly brilliant invasion plan could be created without hours of painstakingly thinking through all the possibilities. To an extent, they were lucky to have gotten away with so few casualties. But the loss of their king and leader was a crushing blow. Why couldn't Peter _see_ that? Why couldn't he see how important he really was? Why couldn't he see that Edmund felt like someone was punching him in the gut every time he realized, once again, that his big brother hadn't come back with them?

Caspian was looking at him, tentatively and maybe a little hopefully waiting for a response. The Telmarine Prince was probably curious as to why he had not yet spoken. He probably wondered if Edmund would be as angry as Susan. Truthfully, he was. But not at Caspian. He wanted to blame Caspian; it would be so easy. But he simply couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't Caspian's fault that Peter had sacrificed himself, no matter what else he was responsible for.

It was his fault. He should have protected Peter. He should have stayed with his brother and guarded his back, like he had always done. He should have taken Peter's place when his idiot brother decided to sacrifice himself just to save the day. It was his fault he wasn't there when his brother needed him the most.

"The fault isn't yours, Caspian," Edmund said, somewhat coolly, because that was the only way he could act without bursting into angry sobs. Even if he didn't blame Caspian, he was still bitter and heartbroken.

Susan whirled around furiously. "Yes, it is! If Caspian had listened to Peter we wouldn't be in this mess! If he had opened the gate earlier, Peter might have still been with us right now! But no. Now he's Miraz's prisoner, and Aslan knows what that _tyrant_ will do!" That was when Edmund understood that Susan felt just as empty inside as he did. They were both utterly lost without the reassuring presence of Peter to help them feel safe and secure.

Edmund almost didn't understand it. He had been without his brother on numerous occasions, for months at a time. Back in the Golden Age, each Pevensie had gone on some sort of diplomatic mission at some time, and they had all stayed behind alone at another. Peter had gone to fight the giants in the North without Edmund to help him, but even then Edmund hadn't felt such a sense of complete doom. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Peter was in such a hopeless situation as Miraz's prisoner. Every other time they had been free and able to fight.

But what could he do now but hide his pain to soothe his sister's own?

"Peter knew what he was doing," Edmund said softly with his eyes downcast. Maybe hiding his pain would be a little more difficult than he thought.

Susan's blue eyes filled with tears, and Edmund understood that she had been acting angry because it was _so _much_ better_ than admitting defeat. He lifted his eyes to hers in acknowledgement of her suffering, but inclined his head toward the army. It wouldn't do to have the Narnians seeing their kings and queen in such a state. No matter how much emotional agony they were in, they had to remain strong for the sake of their people. Peter had always been the best at sacrificing his own feelings for the benefit of others. Edmund hoped to Aslan that he would be able follow his brother's example.

They were silent for the rest of the long march. Having left Miraz's castle at a quarter to three in the morning, and flying for just over two hours after that, it was already almost eight in the morning after walking another three hours. Aslan's How wasn't exactly close to Miraz's castle, which was near Beaversdam. It was a long march, and normally Edmund wouldn't be able to do it in his current body. But, even though his sword fighting skills were out of practice, he could feel Narnia returning some of his former strength, and Edmund didn't feel any more sore than normal after the fight and long journey.

Edmund spent the entire walk lost in his thoughts. He was terribly concerned about Peter. He couldn't imagine what to do, but he felt an almost irresistible urge to turn back and do _something_. He knew he couldn't, though. As much as it pained him, Peter was on his own. There weren't any options available to Edmund at that moment but to move forward. Perhaps some other time he would be able to make other plans, but he didn't have that liberty just yet.

After Susan had lost her angry and stony front, she had looked on the verge of crying for an entire hour. Her eyes had been teary and red, and her jaw was clenched as if she was struggling with emotion. Following that, she had just seemed weary and downtrodden and depressed. Edmund would have tried to help her more, but he didn't really know what to do. Comfort was, in general, Susan's area of expertise. Edmund used to worry that because of that she never had anyone to comfort her, but then he realized that she content and comfortable when their family was whole and happy. Which it wasn't exactly at the moment.

When they broke through the line of trees near Aslan's How, Edmund felt a mixture of emotions. He felt a sense of relief but crushing finality as well. Relief because now they had finally arrived back at their base, they could actually _do _something. And see Lucy. But finality because it suddenly seemed so real. More so than before. Peter wasn't with them. He never would be unless they found a way to save him.

They had just reached the stone courtyard when Lucy came running out of the How, her eyes wide and hair flying. The very first person she threw herself at was Edmund, and he buried himself in her head, allowing his body some rest. He hadn't realized just how tired he was. After a few moments, she pulled back a looked up at him in concern.

"Edmund?" she inquired tentatively. "Is...is something wrong?" She was biting her bottom lip and whipped her head nervously, looking for something seriously amiss. The troops were somewhat down-heartened, but they looked relatively intact. Somehow, Edmund doubted she even noticed that.

"Where's...Peter?" she asked. In the moment that Edmund didn't answer, her manner grew frantic and desperate.

"Edmund? Edmund! Where's Peter? Oh Aslan, where is he? Is he alright? Is he hurt? Is he—oh, Aslan! He isn't—"

"No," Edmund cut her off, shuddering at the fact that his baby sister was entertaining such thoughts. He hesitated slightly before adding, "At least…not yet."

Lucy gasped and buried her face in his chest, needing physical comfort. Edmund tried to provide, feelings as if it had always been his job to protect Lucy. She didn't look back up for a few moments, which she spent almost convulsing in his arms, and when she did, it was with tears in her eyes and streaming down her face.

"What happened?" she asked, with just the slightest quiver in her voice.

Edmund was struck by how truly Valiant his little sister was. She was so full of love and compassion, but strength and honor and intelligence at the same time. She lived with every fiber of her being. That was what she did. Lucy _lived_. And to see her so upset made _Edmund_ upset all over again, but he tried to hide it and answered her instead.

"He sacrificed himself for the good of Narnia...and was taken prisoner by Miraz." Lucy gasped and squeezed her eyes shut in fright. She looked over at Susan and Caspian, who were standing, if somewhat rigidly, next to each other.

"How? Why?"

Susan stepped forward and put on a brave face. Edmund managed a small, bracing smile. At least most of his family was together. He was able to draw some strength from that. Susan just hugged Lucy as well. "Sometimes, Lu, plans just…well, they go all wrong. I don't...I don't think Peter quite knew what he was getting himself into."

Lucy hung her head. "It's because he lost his faith in Aslan," she said mournfully.

"But he'll find it again," Edmund said, reassuring himself as much as Lucy.

Lucy looked off into the direction when had come from. "Then he'll be able to get through this."

_Come on, Pete._

**-EP-PP-**

Peter was roughly handled by the guards, but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. Miraz had kept his word, something that had mildly but pleasantly surprised Peter, and called back his men. Peter had meanwhile issued the command for his troops to retreat, turning and yelling as soon as Miraz had accepted his terms.

At that point, he had been seized by guards. He had gone willingly enough, but they'd felt the need to step on his feet and jostle him around quite a lot. Peter had ignored their antics and carried himself like the king he once was, and was becoming again. That had annoyed them quite a bit, because they had originally hoped to berate him for speaking out of turn or something of that sort. But then they realized that they could mock his regal manner, and did so most enthusiastically.

They had led him deep within the castle to a dank and dark cell. It was the very epitome of gloom. He knew that without faith in Aslan, he was fall into despair and, from there, utter hopelessness. He couldn't give in. No matter how much work (and Peter was sure it would be a lot) Miraz put into breaking him, he couldn't give in. Couldn't give up. He would not further deteriorate his honor. He had lost much of it in the past days, and he was only beginning to make up for it. He would bear his punishment with pride, because that's what a true king would do. Peter should have known that a long time ago.

He was left in the cell without any comforts. Rhindon and its sheath had been taken from him, as well as the extra dagger he had kept in his left boot, which was only for use in dire circumstances. At least he wasn't as bad as Ed, who had, at one point, carried at least three daggers in addition to his sword at all times. To be fair, they had been traversing through unknown and hostile terrain, but his little brother had become quite paranoid.

Peter actually chuckled a little and the fond memories he had of Edmund. He stopped quite quickly—not because of where he was, but because he hadn't exactly been the nicest brother in England, and those fond memories were just that: memories. Peter hadn't bothered creating many fond memories with his little brother in England, and it was entirely his fault. Edmund had been so completely loyal and true, and Peter had taken that for granted. He hardly understood how he possibly could act so unsavory. Now that he had let go of his resentment, he had gained perspective. Quite frankly, he had been a beast in every sense of the word (saving literally, for that could be considered an offense to Beasts).

But now he had redeemed himself. No matter how terrifying his situation was, he couldn't help but keep his feeling of total contentment. Or near total contentment, at least. His past mistakes had left a sense of confusion in him. He was finding his way back to normal, but he still had some doubts. He hadn't exactly been the world's best brother or king lately, even though he had been (or so he was told) a great leader when he was the High King in the Golden Age. The fact that he could fall so far scared him. He knew he just had to keep his faith in Aslan strong to be able to become a real king again.

After his quiet contemplation, Peter, for the first time, really took in his surroundings. Or tried to, at least. The cell was nearly void of light, with only a faint glow cast by the torch on the wall opposite him. It wasn't exactly the best lighting ever, but that was the least of Peter's problems. There wasn't anything for convenience at all, really. The cell was meant to break him, and Peter realized that. It didn't have any material for a bed, or, actually, anything at all. There was a small hole in the corner, and he realized that it was so he could relieve himself. He hadn't been left any food, either, although he wasn't sure if that was a permanent thing or not. Miraz could employ that as a means to torture him, but Caspian's evil uncle probably had much more creative and ambitious ideas.

In all honesty, he probably should have been more scared. He was the prisoner of a man who very much hated him on principle, was evil to the core, and would probably never change. He was at the mercy of a man who had no mercy. Essentially, his situation appeared to be hopeless.

But somehow, Peter still had plenty of hope. He knew that there was always some hope, as long as faith in Aslan remained true. All he had to do was trust that Aslan was with him, protecting him every step of the way, and there was no way that he would lose his hope.

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_Author's Note: So, there's Chapter One! Again, sorry it's taken so long. Thank you all for your patience. I also would like to thank my Betas. Yes, I found them. Yes, _them_. I had two wonderful offers after my prologue, which was very kind. I actually don't know if I ever mentioned that there were two to them, though...I have a bad memory. If I haven't, **Angel8621 **and _**_IchigoKurosakiSotaicho_**_, I need both of you because you are both wonderful and help me in different aspects of my story. And they rock, everyone._

_Well, now that we're past that awkwardness. I had a bad day. I tried out for our school musical, and being in middle school, it's more likely to get a lead. Especially being in eight grade. Unfortunately, the director gave most of the leads to seventh graders. It may sound silly, but it has made me very upset. But I'm still in it, and I can try out for basketball now, so I have very little reason to complain. I hope that you all had a better day than I did. :)_

_Anyways, please review. I love to hear from you, no matter what you have to say. And I mean that literally. Reviews saying "good", "bad", "more", "horrible", and "interesting" are all acceptable. I want to know your thoughts. Thanks!_

_Until next time!  
_


	3. Chapter 2: Part 1, Where?

**Hero**

**By Eraleigh Aminah**

**Disclaimer: I'm writing this, aren't I?  
**

_Author's Note: Hey, guys... Look, I know it's been a long time. There are a few reasons for that. First, this chapter was insanely hard for me to write. I wrote two different versions before settling on this one. I wanted to find the best way to express Edmund's grief. Secondly, this chapter is really long. I split into two by recommendation of my beta. The whole thing is more than the other two chapters combined. Don't worry, the other 4000 words are coming very soon. They are already written and everything. The next few chapters have been planned out as well, so __don't worry. Thirdly, this has actually been ready for over a week, but I've been waiting for time to upload it. So, I'm sorry it's very late, but it's better than nothing._

_Anyways, this chapter has been split into two. As such, there are two songs for it. The one for this half is called "Where", and it is from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe soundtrack. I think it fits this nicely. And it's really a gorgeous song. Listen to it! In fact, just listen to the soundtrack. I'm obsessed with it, and with others. _

_I just wanted to say thank you to my beta and all my lovely reviewers! You guys rock!_

_

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_

_On this half lit day_  
_ With your crown beneath your wing_  
_ Every word just echoes_  
_ And the empty world sings_.

_ Where have you gone my feather light heart?_  
_ I never imagined I could leave._

"Where" _- _Lisbeth Scott

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**Chapter 2:**** Part 1 - Where****?**_  
_

Every moment was worse than the last.

With every passing minute, Edmund could feel his anxiety for Peter grow. Where was his brother? Was he alright? Was he being tortured? The possibilities tauntingly flashed through his mind, creating a nightmarish slideshow that kept on repeating itself over and over in his brain. Edmund didn't talk much the rest of the day, which the Pevensies spent together, praying to Aslan upon Lucy's insistence. They didn't split ways until they went to bed, but Edmund didn't fall asleep for a very long time. When he finally did, he didn't sleep well.

His mind was plagued with dreams—nightmares—of Peter. Peter tortured, Peter wounded, Peter dead. Peter's body, mangled and dying. Peter _alone_ and dying. Peter alone and dying without Edmund there to save him. The horrors didn't let up until Edmund awoke very early the next morning, sweating and tangled in the thin bed sheets that he was fortunate enough to have.

The worst was that he knew it was possible. _Very _possible. Peter, his big, brave older brother, was most likely lying in a dungeon without any comforts. Either that or Miraz was torturing him. Neither thought was welcome, and Edmund attempted to push them out of his mind. It wasn't quite working, though. The images lingered on the outskirts of his brain, fighting for a way to break in, and break _him._

_Aslan_, _he can't go one bloody minute without being all noble and self-sacrificing, can he? _Edmund's frustration went beyond his anguish; he was also angry at his brother for thinking he was so expendable. Peter _always_ did this! He always thought that everyone would be alright without him. Didn't Peter understand that Edmund felt like a dagger was being twisted in his gut when he thought of things that Miraz was going to do to him? He had barely contained his tears last night, after everything. He wondered how he had managed to restrain anything at all. He supposed it was the numbness. But was numbness supposed to be so painful?

The feeling was all too familiar. Of course, it wasn't the first time Peter had gone and forfeited himself for the good of others. He was absolutely wonderful in that way. But he was also absolutely terrifying. Every time Peter was in a dangerous situation, he managed to find trouble. The one other time Peter had surrendered himself to enemies had been the worst two weeks of Edmund's life.

. . . . . .

_A fifteen-year-old King Edmund helped his brother High King Peter into his armor, securing his cuirass tightly into place. Peter, in turn, helped Edmund with his. It was a system they had, one that they both found helped relax them a bit before battle. Otherwise, Edmund knew they would both be a mess of nerves. If not for themselves, then for each other. Peter had an annoying habit of putting others before himself._

_ "All ready, Ed?" Peter asked, squaring his rather broad shoulders. At the age of eighteen, Peter was nearly full-grown and every bit a man and king. Sometimes Edmund wondered if he could ever be half the man Peter was. Oh, he knew Peter had his struggles—he was a witness to them—but his brother's ability to push them aside was incredible. The only thing that ever got in the way of his duty to Narnia was his concern for his siblings. Concern Edmund was able to hear clearly in the High King's voice._

_ "Well, I don't know," he replied sarcastically. "You've only re-adjusted the fasten on my vambraces three times." Edmund saw a relieved grin spread over Peter's face._

_ "Now I _know _you alright, if you're using sarcasm."_

_ "I thought you were asking if I was _all ready_, not _alright_." _

_ Peter just caught Edmund up in his arms, despite the fact that they were both wearing full armor. Edmund clung tightly to his brother, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he could be. They stood that way for almost an entire minute, addressing without words the horror they were about to witness. In their words, they made light of the situation, but there came a time before every battle where the two brothers needed to acknowledge the gravity of situation and feel the other's heartbeat. Edmund shut his eyes tight as worry knotted in his stomach. He then berated himself for not having enough faith in his brother. Peter could take care of himself, Edmund knew that. But Peter was known to be selfless and brave, and Edmund couldn't help the anxiety building up inside of him._

_ "Will you ride alongside of me?" Peter asked. Edmund couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath._

_ "Pete?" He looked up at the High King in shock. Edmund hadn't ever ridden next to his brother. Peter's big brother instincts kept him from allowing Edmund in the front lines. He often tried to keep Edmund out of harm's way as much as possible. He got too distracted with worry that Edmund would get hurt. The fact that he was asking Edmund to lead the charge next to him displayed the amount of faith Peter had that he could defend himself. Edmund immediately felt guilty for not having the same certainty in his brother._

_ "Ride into battle next to me, Ed," Peter requested once more, holding his eyes level with Edmund's. For his part, Edmund just stared into his brother's clear sky blue eyes, which were filled with pure love and confidence. Edmund swallowed hard, not trusting himself to speak. Peter began to look worried at his lack of response, and opened his mouth, no doubt to voice concern, but Edmund spoke first._

_ "Of course," he choked out, his voice breaking slightly. He coughed, and then repeated himself. "Of course I will, Pete. Of course." Then he buried himself in Peter's chest, hoping his brother wouldn't notice the tears forming in his eyes. But he did. He wouldn't be Peter if he hadn't._

_ "Ed?" he asked, concern coloring his voice. "Ed, are you-"_

_ "Yes, I'm bloody well alright," Edmund interrupted, but he didn't sound it. His voice was thick with emotion, and Peter immediately picked up on what was happening._

_ "Are you really crying about this?" Edmund looked up at him and scowled at Peter's obvious amusement. The corners of his lips had turned up and he looked like he was trying to suppress laughter, despite the fact that they were only a couple of hours away from mêlée. _

_ "Lion's Mane, Ed, don't pout!" Peter only grinned wider as Edmund scowled more darkly._

_ "As entertaining as this is to you," he remarked dryly, "I'm going to have to ask you to stop." Peter's grin turned into a gentle smile as he realized how much it meant to Edmund that he had absolute belief in him. He gently pressed his lips to Edmund's forehead, causing the younger king to blush slightly. _

_ "Pet-er..." he whined, ducking out of his brother's arms._

_ "Oh, Ed," the older king sighed softly. "You're so sentimental sometimes." Edmund's cheeks only reddened more._

_ "Well I wouldn't be if you weren't!" he protested. Peter's grin returned._

"_You don't _always_ have to be like me, Ed."_

_Edmund didn't miss a beat in answering. "Why _wouldn't_ I try to be like you?" he challenged. _

_It was Peter's turn to become choked with emotion. "Because, Ed," he gasped, "you are _so _much better."_

. . . . . .

They had spent almost ten minutes holding onto each other and crying, Edmund remembered. He longed to feel his brother in his arms again. He missed Peter's warmth and strength, his compassion and love. He missed his brother. He hadn't seen him for months, not since they had returned from Narnia after ruling. Not even at Miraz's castle had his brother come back. The High King was back. He wanted his brother back too. He wanted his brother to return to them. It was so selfish, but Edmund wanted to hear Peter's heartbeat and feel his body and see the faith in his brother's eyes again. He wished he had been able to protect his brother. Why was it that every time Peter was captured, he felt like it was his fault?

. . . . . .

_By the time the two brothers exited their shared tent, Lucy was leaving hers. Her mouth was set into a surprising scowl, unlike it almost always was. Their thirteen-year-old sister was nothing if not constant, and she seemed to be constantly cheerful. The reason for her displeasure was immediately evident._

"_I'm still mad at you," she told Peter when the two kings reached her. Edmund rolled his eyes. So _that _was the problem. Lucy wanted to fight with the troops, but Peter had refused and only allowed her to ride with them into battle if she swore she would stay with the archers. Lucy had reluctantly accepted, probably because she simply didn't want to be left behind. Edmund suspected that she would defy Peter and find a way to use her knives anyways. _

"_Lucy..." Peter groaned. "I thought we had discussed this already."_

"_Yes, but I'm still not very pleased with your decision."_

"_Lu, you're only thirteen. I can't bear to see you hurt. Or worse."_

_Lucy frowned at Peter's tender tone. The truth was that it was so difficult to go against Peter's wishes. He genuinely was just looking out for them, and he always looked betrayed when they disobeyed them, because he just wanted them to be safe. Edmund tended to do whatever Peter said these days just to avoid that kicked puppy look. Except for when he was being particularly stupid. Then he felt disinclined to listen to anything Peter said._

"_But you were thirteen when you rode into battle against the White Witch," she protested, more feebly now. "And Edmund was only ten."_

"_Yes, and Edmund stayed with the archers. Please, Lucy, I just want to protect you." Peter was starting to look pained, and Edmund shot Lucy a pleading look. She caught it and hung her head, strangely moody. Edmund was somewhat shocked at how upset she was. It was unlike her. _

"_I can take care of myself," she muttered to herself, but Peter heard her. He caught her up in his arms and swung her around adoringly before setting her down and placing a kiss on top of her head. Edmund marveled at how Peter could push away his fears to smile so freely and lovingly at their sister. _

"_I know you can, Lu. I just don't want for you to have to."_

_Lucy smiled brightly, all anger forgotten. _Girls_, Edmund thought. "Oh, my dashing knight!" she joked. Edmund scoffed._

"_More like idiotic prig." But he said it affectionately._

"_Oh, Ed, you wound me!" Peter exclaimed dramatically, falling to his knees with a joyful smile. Lucy jumped on top of him, and he laughed openly. How did he _do_ that? How could he be so _bright _all of the time? He was like the sun—constantly shining and necessary for survival. Edmund wondered briefly how he had ever been lucky enough to have such an amazing family before Lucy pulled him down as well._

_The three monarchs stayed that way for a while, hugging each other tightly, before Edmund finally remembered himself. "You know," he said, "we're probably supposed to leave now. War doesn't wait for anyone." Lucy and Peter immediately became more serious, their laughter ceasing. Edmund felt vaguely guilty for ruining their fun._

"_Ed's right," Peter said. "Time to go."_

_He helped Lucy up before drawing her into another tight hug. His face looked much more somber and concerned, and he shut his eyes tightly. "Please, Lucy, just stay out of trouble. I can't bare to think of anything happening to you."_

"_I won't, Peter," Lucy swore. "I promise I'll stay somewhere safe."_

"_Good."_

_Peter finally released her, and Edmund stepped forward, hugging his sister almost as tightly, but not quite because he simply wasn't as strong as Peter. "I love you, Lucy. With all my heart."_

"_I love you too, Ed," Lucy whispered. "Please, please, _please _don't go looking for danger. And please watch Peter. He needs somebody to look after him too."_

_. . . . . ._

How had he ever allowed himself to break that promise? Why couldn't he ever protect Peter? His older brother was far too noble to ever put himself first. At least, he always had been in Narnia. In England, everything had changed. But now, Peter seemed to be returning to himself. His selfless brother was back in full force. And once more Edmund had failed to protect him.

It was painful, actually. It hurt to know that Peter had given himself up and Edmund hadn't taken his place. That's what should have happened. Peter was so much more important than he was. Edmund would do almost _anything _to return his brother to the Narnians. He didn't care what that did to him. Unlike Peter, he actually _was_ expendable.

_I swear, with my life, my love, my body and soul, the whole of my being, to defend the life of my King, my honorable and noble lord, to put his life before my own, to protect him with every bone in my body and every drop of blood. I swear to follow his every order, put my absolute faith in his wisdom. I swear, if ever the need arises, to gladly lay down my life for his. This I swear in the name of the Lion Aslan, whose love and greatness none surpass, and in the name of all in the world that is good and just._

Edmund had taken that oath. He had promised to protect Peter with his life, to do whatever he was ordered. Peter hadn't ever known, which was unusual. Normally, a knight or subject would kneel before their king, head bowed, and swear the Narnian Oath of Fealty. Peter hadn't been present when Edmund had taken the vow. He had been captured by those blasted savages.


	4. Chapter 2: Part 2, The Battle

**Hero**

**By Eraleigh Aminah**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

**_Author's Note: I know you've been waiting for this. I _know _it. Two whole days, how did you survive, my loves? Anyways, here's part two. The reason it took me forever to write this chapter. Almost the entire thing is a battle, which is kinda the reason it sucks. Sorry 'bout that. Hopefully it doesn't all suck, though. Tell me what you think (hint, hint). _

_Anyways, I didn't want to spend ages looking for a theme song like I did for Part 1. As a consequence, I employed the use of a song from my favorite ever TV show, _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. It's so sad. Although I'm not sure it entirely fits. Maybe it fits Part 1 better. It does fit the last scene of this chapter, though. It's very similar to the one Iroh has in the show, if you've watched it. If you feel that the song doesn't fit, then please, use the instrumental piece listed below. The difficult thing about finding a piece for this chapter is that the different parts of it have significantly different themes. And instrumental pieces have such different parts in them.  


* * *

_

_Leaves from the vine  
Falling so slow_

_Like fragile, tiny shells  
Drifting in the foam_

_Little soldier boy  
Come marching home_

_Brave soldier boy  
Comes marching home_

Leaves From The Vine - Avatar: The Last Airbender

_(also listen to)_

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe OST - The Battle

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers OST - The King of the Golden Hall

_

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_

**Chapter Two: Part 2 - Leaves From the Vine**

_"Today, we fight! We fight for the freedom and equality of all creatures, be they human or Animal! We fight in the hopes that our sacrifices here today lead to peace and justice! _We fight_ for _NARNIA! _and the _NORTH! We fight for ASLAN!"

_Peter galloped on his white unicorn, clanging Rhindon against the troops own swords, his speech increasing moral tenfold. The Narnians cheered loudly, some letting loose battle cries. "For Narnia!" and "For Aslan!" were the most common, but Edmund also heard his subjects crying out "For our High King!" Edmund smiled with pride at the effects Peter had on his people, at the determination and joy he brought to their faces. Only Aslan could do any more for the people. Peter truly was the High King._

_Peter rode back to Peter, a noble a determined expression on his face. Edmund felt his stomach knot tightly in anxiety, nervous beyond belief. Not for himself, but for Peter and Lucy. He was terrified that the Calormene would use dirty, underhanded tactics that would endanger his siblings. He couldn't stand to think of what the Tash-worshipping race could do to either his brother or sister. One small, confident smile from Peter was all it took to calm his fears, however._

_"This is it, Ed. You ready?" Edmund set his jaw, squared his shoulders, and one of his two swords._

_"Are _you_?" he challenged childishly, setting his mouth in a smirk to cover his nerves. Peter's eyes sparkled slightly, before the unicorn reared up and he thrust his sword into the air._

_"FOR NARNIA, AND FOR ASLAN!"_

_Peter charged forward, and Edmund followed just a step behind. His horse galloped across the rocky terrain, and for a few glorious moments, Edmund felt on top of the world. He pulled down his visor and held his sword and shield, feeling absolutely peaceful. The two opposing sides, riding closer and closer before locking in fierce and majestic combat, leading to a final, triumphant victory for the honest and righteous. That's how it always seemed, the moment before swords clashed, blood spilled, and people died._

_Edmund, for a brief moment, was absolutely terrified that leading the charge meant he would be among the first to die. But then he thought of Peter, and the trust that his brother had in him, and all of his worries disappeared. If Peter thought he could do it, he could._

_They were only meters away from the Calormenes when Edmund let loose a fierce battle cry and engaged in combat. He managed to ride to the side of the first soldier and cut off his head from behind, but it wasn't so easy the second time around. He engaged another soldier, furiously aiming at the chinks in the man's armor. Slash. Block. Thrust. Finally, Edmund fatally wounded the man in the leg and moved on._

_During battle, Edmund couldn't really focus on anything but what he was doing. Duck, parry, pick up extra sword and throw at enemy. He couldn't do anything but what he had to so he could survive. It was all about fighting, for Narnia. That was what he had to remind himself afterwards, when he thoughts about the lives he had taken. He had to think of how it was for Narnia, and not about the blood that the enemy soldier had coughed up when he had lay dying, all for the sake of his country. Edmund shivered every time he thought about how that man was just performing his duty to his country, just as Edmund did for his._

_But then, when locked in a ferocious conflict whilst fighting for his life, he didn't think of any of that. Edmund was once again struggling with a soldier. Edmund's sword was locked tightly with the man's, his jaw clenched, before he twisted his sword around and, in a series of lightning-fast blows, disarmed him. The man glowered at him, but just as he was about to deliver the final blow, the man's horse reared up and kicked Edmund square in the chest in defense._

_Edmund went flying backwards, hitting the ground and then rolling a couple of times before being stopped by a dead body. There was something about war that desensitized him to corpses, and Edmund didn't waste a moment in pushing himself back to his feet and taking in his surroundings._

_The Narnians and Calormenes seemed to be fully engaged in combat in the rocky, uneven terrain. The battle was taking place in a highland region between Archenland and Calormen, right on the border of the desert. It was quite humid, even for the higher-ground, but apparently not as much as usual. The lower temperature in the desert meant that Calormen was trying to push its border northward, which meant Archenland and Narnia had ridden out to meat it in war. Except King Lune's wife had just died, and Peter had offered to lead the campaign like the good friend he was._

_Edmund could vaguely make out the shape of Lucy (it was the skirts whipping with the warm wind) on the top of the hill, ordering the archers and taking aim herself. He proceeded to look for Peter, which proved to be a more difficult task as he confronted more soldiers, this time on foot._

_He made quick work of the two men that approached him, ducking low and slamming one in the face with his shield before twisting his sword out of its defensive block and into the man's gut. Edmund felt rather than saw another man creeping up from behind, and he slammed the pommel or his sword as hard as he could into the man's poorly-protected face._

_He tried to fight his way through the fray while looking for his brother's gleaming sword and armor. Finally, he came to the slope of the "Narnian" hill, where Peter was battling on a rock that was jutting out from the side._

_His brother was holding his own remarkably well (of course), but he was the one that was being pushed toward the edge, and seemed to be mostly of the defensive. Edmund surveyed the area, looking for any threats. He quickly tossed his shield so it spun into the neck of an archer aiming at Peter just as the High King offensively jumped over his opponent and stabbed him from behind in a well-rehearsed move he had practiced nonstop for ages. Edmund has never been more thankful for his brother's insistence on working so intently all the time than he was in that moment._

_"Peter!" Edmund called out, just slightly desperate, knowing his brother had been in serious danger for a few moments there. He mouth began to form a relieved smile as Peter whipped around to face him, but the older king didn't break out into a similar expression._

_"Edmund!" he shouted, looking at something beyond Edmund's shoulder. Edmund spun on his heel, simultaneously raising his sword. It came up just in time to block the powerful downstroke from an opposing blade. Edmund instantly grit his teeth and strained his muscles as he tried to keep his sword above his head, using both hands on the handle._

_As he felt the Calormene pushing with more and more force on him, he started to bend under the pressure. Finally, with a shove, he unlocked his sword and dove to the side, rolling for a few meters before he jumped back to his feet. His head rotated quickly, searching for the shine of Peter's armor. Edmund spotted him battling three men single-handedly and ran towards him, not even stopping as he stabbed an approaching soldier in the gut._

_Edmund drew his second sword and slit the throat of an unsuspecting Calormene that was fighting Peter. Then he took on a second one as his brother concentrated on the first. Edmund brought his right-handed sword down in a giant stroke, only to be met by the steel of the other man's scimitar. With a practiced determination, he expertly brought down his other sword, hitting the man's shield. He cut downward with his right, and his left remained as protection. He slashed into the soldier's leg, and as the man became distracted by the pain, Edmund hit the side of the man's head with the pommel of his sword, knocking him unconscious._

_"Edmund?" he heard Peter gasp out, blood trickling from his cheek. Edmund belatedly realized he had, besides quite a few bruises, a cut behind his right ear and on his left leg. They didn't hurt badly enough for him to even notice them earlier, though, so he knew they weren't serious._

_"Doing alright?" Edmund asked, most of his usual dryness replaced by genuine concern. Peter managed a tired nod, but then he turned to fight another oncoming soldier. Edmund immediately did the same, ducking a swinging blade and darting around his opponent to stab him from the back. Perhaps not the most honorable killing technique, but war was war._

_Edmund got farther and farther from Peter as he continued ducking and diving, defeating the adversaries mostly by outmaneuvering them. He lost track of his direction and of Peter, getting caught up in the battle again. His awareness of the world diminish; fighting was all he knew. Dodge, cut, slash, twist, block, duck, stab, _turn_! His brain was hyper-aware of his own actions and the actions of those around him, but he was lost beyond that._

_His sense of time seemed to disappear. It seemed like he had been locked in furious combat his entire life. Thus, he didn't realize when he became surrounded by Calormenes until it was too late. Far too late._

_"Look, boys! The Barbarian King is so stupid he didn't know he was about to _DIE_!" Edmund ignored the taunt to the best of his ability, not wanting to slip up and ensure his death._

_One of the soldiers stopped cold. "Wait, what? We can't kill him! Don't you know what type of reward we'll get if we bring him to the Tisroc (my he live forever)? We'll be rich!" The men's eyes gleamed with greed, and the others began to start nodding their heads and grinning. Then they began to slowly stalk him, closing in on him. Edmund's eyes went wide, as he started to panic. _Lion's Mane, what am I supposed to do?_ This wasn't something he had ever expected. He had no idea what he was could possibly do. So he did the only thing that felt logical in his situation. He fought for his life._

_He spun around and brought both swords clashing down on a surprised soldier, who tried to bring up his sword to defend himself. It was too late. Edmund's blade slammed with full force into the man's helmet, giving him a concussion at the very least. Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to do anything else. Another man had come up behind he, placing his scimitar at Edmund's throat. A growl of frustration and anger escaped his mouth, drawing forth a sinister laugh from his assaulter._

_"Give it up, little king," the man whispered. "Down on your knees." When Edmund didn't move, he was kicked behind his knees, causing him to drop his swords and sink to the ground, his eyes blazing with fury. Another Calormene grabbed his hands and began to tie them together. Edmund couldn't struggle like he wanted to either, because there was still a blade at his throat._

_Once his hands were tied securely (and Edmund knew they were), the man holding his sword to his throat lowered it and began to circle Edmund as other men held him in place. Edmund glared as best he could and spat at the man's feet. "I will kill you," Edmund vowed._

_The man leaned down. "You'll have to get free first." Then he began to laugh maniacally. Edmund watched with growing disgust, listening as the laugh became more throaty as he began to gurgle blood. A sword protruded from his stomach, and he dropped the ground, dead. Behind him stood Peter, the elder boy's eyes glinting with hostility and a little bit of satisfaction as he immediately took one of the men holding Edmund down._

_"Ed! Cut your bonds!" Peter shouted. Edmund instantly did as his brother commanded, his brain incapable of thinking for itself. He scurried along the ground as the Calormene swarmed Peter, searching for his swords. He finally found one, and began to saw the cords binding his wrists off, glancing over his shoulder constantly as he did so._

_"AHH!" a soldier let loose a battle cry as he brought his sword down, clearly not caring much more money. Edmund sweeped out the man's feet from beneath him as he finished cutting loose his hands. The cords fell from his already-sore wrists as he picked up his sword, not bothering to find the other as he raced in to help Peter._

_His brother was being surrounded much like Edmund had just a few short minutes ago. "Peter!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly. The High King's head whipped around at the sound, despite the fact he still fighting the Calormene. Edmund began to run towards him, but his brother shouted at him._

_"No, Ed! Turn back! Leave now, save yourself!" Peter's words stopped him cold as he realized what his brother was planning._

No, Peter!_ his brain shouted, but his mouth wouldn't move. Could he really leave his brother to die? No, of course not. But Peter had told him to go; he had to leave. But Lucy had told him to take care of Peter. And he had sworn he would._

_There was nothing to it. He had to help Peter. Why he had spent any time thinking otherwise was stupid. Every moment was important. Edmund raced towards the small crowd of men that Peter was hopelessly trying to defend himself against, jumping on top of a rock elevated from the ground, like a ruin, and down on a soldier. The man didn't have a chance to even know Edmund was there as his sword cut through his neck._

_Edmund began to battle his way toward Peter, his desperation to save his brother blocking everything else out. He stabbed a man in the gut before he stood back-to-back with Peter. "What are you doing here?" Peter hissed. "I told you to leave! We can't _both_ get free!" Edmund was stunned still for a moment._

_"Wait, _what_?" he asked. "You _meant_ to get captured?" He couldn't believe it. What kind of pig-headed fool was Peter? How self-sacrificing and noble could he get?_

_"Yes!" Peter exclaimed. "I still mean to!" Edmund's eyes went wide, and his distraction led to a painful blow from his opponent that would lead to a swollen black eye. He probably would have reacted more if he hadn't been so focused on Peter._

_"You bleeding idiot!" was all he could say as he ducked a swinging sword._

_"Ed, you _have_ to leave! I command you!" Peter shouted back as he pushed a man in the face with his shield._

_"No, I can't! You're the High King! I have to protect you!"_

_"High King, men!" came the surprised exclamation from one of the men. "Do you know what that means?" Edmund's eyes went wide at the implications, and he frantically turned to his brother, forgetting himself for a moment._

_"Go, Ed!"_

_"Peter, no, I -!" But Peter didn't hear him. The older king had quickly dived out of the way, which had most likely been his intent. Peter rolled over rugged terrain, and the Calormene followed him, leaving Edmund standing with his mind in turmoil._

_What was he supposed to do? Peter was being overwhelmed by Calormenes because he had failed to follow his brother's first command, leading to them discovering his brother's position. But wouldn't Peter have been captured anyways? Maybe not. Maybe it was all his fault because Peter had been forced into a weak position trying to protect him. Lion's Mane! His brother was strong enough to resist the impossible odds. But not on the ground. He was helpless._

_Edmund searched for assistance. There was nobody close by, but he could call the problem to the Narnians attention. That was definitely the best way to help Peter. He wasn't strong enough by himself, but with a little help Peter could be saved. That was the logical decision. He should have done that immediately._

_Whilst still berating himself for being so stupid, he ran, calling out for backup. "Narnians! Narnians!" he yelled. "Your king is in danger! Help him! Go, go, he is most important!" Here his voice cracked. "He matters more than anything. Go, go!"_

_Edmund ran for longer than he would like, rallying a force of nearly ten Narnians in a few minutes. He turned back, looking for the place he had left Peter. Wasn't that it? But, then...where was Peter? _There!_ The Calormene were dragging him along, the large group effectively deterring any potential pursuers. Edmund pumped his legs with all of his remained strength, finding a stamina and agility he didn't know he possessed. The Narnians ran with him, fully aware of what was at stake. Some other Animals and Fauns and Centaurs seemed to realize what was happening, and joined the chase. Edmund was positive they would catch him, but then they were abruptly cut off._

_Arrows rained down on the twenty-five or so Narnians following the Calormene group, which was gradually becoming larger. An arrow found its way through Edmund's chain mail into his calf, and he stumbled and fell. The instant he did so, he cursed himself. Tears pricked his eyes against his will, and he saw many other Narnians fall as well. Another group of Calormenes, not the ones with Peter, closed off their path. Edmund shut his eyes tightly in pain and collapsed on the ground._

. . . . . .

Edmund felt his tears form at the edges of his eyes just at the thought. Anger swelled up inside of him at the thought of the Calormenes, and he crashed his fist against his thin mattress. "AGH!"

He hung his head low and struggled to keep his bottom lip from trembling. _I will not cry, I will not cry..._ He repeated the mantra in his head, but to no avail. The tears came anyways, tumbling out of his eyes at a furious pace._ Oh, Aslan..._ He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. Not again. He couldn't live with himself, knowing that he was doing nothing with himself while Peter was in such danger.

"Edmund?" Lucy peeped her head into his room. Edmund whipped to turn and look into her concerned blue eyes, furiously wishing his own weren't so wet and red. This wasn't something for Lucy to deal with. He couldn't burden her with his problems. It wasn't something he could allow himself to do as an older brother. He had to pull himself together.

"Yes, Lu?" His voice sounded too strained. He had to relax it.

"You were screaming..." Lucy hesitantly spoke, almost finishing in a question. Edmund mentally cringed. There was no point in lying. Lucy would see through that, and he didn't want to lie to her anyways.

"Um...I was upset." _Lion's Mane!_ Lucy only looked more worried at his confession. She stepped into his bedroom, coming to sit on his bed next to him. She placed her hand into his, looking up into his face.

"I'm upset too. We have to have faith that Aslan will protect him." Edmund squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

"I don't think I can," he admitted. "I can't not do anything. The thought of Peter suffering makes me so angry. Angry at myself for not doing anything. I feel guilty for not protecting him." Edmund turned back to Lucy. "I _have_ to save him, don't you see? I can't just leave him and pray for the best. Not when this is my fault."

"Edmund, this isn't your-"

"Then why do I feel so guilty?"

"Because you have a ridiculous guilt complex!" Lucy retorted. That shut him up. "Besides...what could you do? It's not like you can sneak in disguised as a Telmarine!"

Edmund's eyes widened with realization of what he had to do. "Lucy, that's _exactly_ what I need to do. What else could work? It's my only chance." His eyes were free of tears now, and instead were completely earnest, begging Lucy to believe him. Begging her to help him.

"Edmund, I can't let you do this! I can't let you endanger yourself as well as Peter? One of you is enough!"

"_Please, Lucy_!"

"Edmund-"

"No! I have to do this. I don't have a choice. It's my duty, to my king." Lucy finally backed off, releasing his hand and turning her head in frustration.

"Fine. Then I'll come with you." Edmund recoiled in astonishment, shaking his head before the words were out.

"No, no. I can't put you in that position. I can't worry about protecting you. I'll have enough to do by myself. What would Peter say if I brought you along?"

"I can protect myself," Lucy said with the dangerous air of the Warrior Queen. Edmund was stunned speechless for a moment, having not heard Lucy use that tone for over a year. Not since she was fourteen years older than her current age.

"I know you can, Lu," he said, backtracking quickly. "I never meant that you couldn't, just that I would feel it my responsibility to look out for you anyways. This isn't the same world we're used to. It's darker, more treacherous. Peter would want me to keep you out of trouble."

"Peter would want you to respect me as a Queen."

"Peter would want me to keep you safe."

"Peter would want you to keep _you_ safe." Edmund frowned at her irrefutable logic. That was completely true. Peter wouldn't want him to chase after him. It would be against his wishes. But it was for the good of Narnia, and that meant more, right? Saving Peter was good for Narnia. And Edmund had a duty to his country. Maybe this was one wish he could go against? Well, Peter would want him to protect Narnia. So it wasn't entirely against his wishes, after all.

"So, it's decided. I'll come with you," Lucy said lightly. Edmund's eyes widened.

"What? No!" Lucy frowned slightly at him.

"I'm coming. And you can't stop me. I'll either come with you, or follow behind you. Which would you prefer?" Edmund scowled at her, because she knew what he would choose. Never, _ever_, would he let her leave on her own planning to infiltrate the Telmarine castle. She had him backed into a corner.

"Fine."

. . . . . .

_Edmund limped across the battlefield after it was all over early the next morning. His leg was tightly wrapped, his eye swollen, and his deeper cuts bandaged. Despite the sorry condition he was in, the Narnians had won. Or at least, they should have. Nobody considered it a win considering those Calormenes had escaped. And considering they had taken Peter._

_Edmund found the exact spot where his brother had sacrificed himself for Edmund. The only recognizable landmark was an abnormally large boulder resting near the foot of the hill. Edmund walked above and to the right of it, finding an cord of rope where he planted his sword into the rocky ground and kneeled._

I swear, with my life, my love, my body and soul, the whole of my being, to defend the life of my King, my honourable and noble lord, to put his life before my own, to protect him with every bone in my body and every drop of blood. I swear to follow his every order, put my absolute faith in his wisdom. I swear, if ever the need arises, to gladly lay down my life for his. This I swear in the name of the Lion Aslan, whose greatness and devotion none surpass, and in the name of all in the world that is good and just.


End file.
